Many Returns
by brightlady-lise
Summary: The War of the Ring is over. A one shot speculating about coming home and scars that won't quite heal.


All things considered, Bree escaped the War of the Ring relatively unscathed. Butterbur tells her that bandits attacked in the dead of winter; but they were swiftly ousted and their numbers have dwindled thanks to the timely intervention of the Rangers, her brothers and sisters. The only signs of the struggle are scorch marks on the mayor's house and the Prancing Pony along with Bill Ferny's abandoned house. No one knows much about the war to the East and to the South; except for some of the older and wiser heads or the younger and more curious. There are rumors of trouble in the Shire; but it seems to have resolved itself. Life hums on, much as it has for the past few hundred years. After all, her father taught her that the greatest of deeds are those which absolutely no one knows about.

Siofran settles back into her old life. There are still some bandits lurking about where the constabulary can't reach and wights in the Barrow-Downs which need ousted in the name of peace. Her Dunedain relations view King Elessar favorably, despite thinking that the name "Telcontar" is ridiculous. He could have gone with something a wee bit more dignified. Either way, they're waiting for him to ride up the Greenway into Bree just to see the look on Barliman Butterbur's face when he walks into the Pony and asks for "the usual". Her siblings want stories and her mother needs help in the shop. One of her Bree cousins is getting married as are several of her childhood friends. She accepts the invitations.

Nevertheless, something about the world feels strange. The old patterns don't quite fit anymore. She feels restless. Sometimes she feels like there's an itch under her skin she can't quite scratch. An ache in her heart that she can't quite explain. Sometimes she finds herself pouring over old maps and old books or staring down the road as if she expects someone or something to come out of the dust. One summer, she rides to the Shire spurred partially by curiosity and the need to talk with someone who understands what it feels like to _come_ home and yet not _be _home.

The Shire is scarred by the War and somehow, this feels more familiar and almost more comfortable than the untouched fields and farms of Bree. It almost frightens her, that she feels right only when she sees the burned out shells of buildings and people that greet her with open suspicion as she rides by. She plans to tell the Ringbearer so many things. How she can't sleep at night without waking up gasping for breath. How some of her newer scars ache. For instance, the ankle she twisted at the First Battle of the Fords hurts before a thunderstorm. What comes out is this: a timid knock on the door and a half whispered, "Thank you." She turns to leave and he says, "Won't you stay for tea?"

The Ringbearer- Frodo, is writing a book. A book detailing the Quest for Erebor and the War of the Ring. He offers to let her read the bits he has written and asks her if he missed anything. She tells him that she'll write her own account of the War to fling into the mix of the thousands being written and that will be written. He'd like to read it when it's done.

She rides home and picks up a pen. The Red Book remembers; but it won't remember everything. The world will remember Aragorn and Arwen; but will it remember Nona and Horn*? There will be songs sung of the Fellowship and the bridge of Khazad-Dum; but who will sing songs of the Iron Garrison? Stories will be told of the Witch-King and his terrible servants; but will they tell of Narmeleth and Amarthiel who were ensnared in his schemes? The people of Rohan will always remember Theodred who died at the Fords; but they'll forget the way his laugh sounded** and how much he doubted himself before the end. Historians will talk of how Frodo survived a Morgul blade; but will they talk about Amdir who succumbed to it?

The writing takes a little over two years. She sends it off to Hobbiton via special courier and heaves a sigh of relief. Frodo sends an edited copy back and says that it's a bit rough around the edges; but it has potential. So Siofran picks up the pen again. Over the years, the nightmares fade and she can feel her words giving life to old friends.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_*Nona survived the Battle of the Pelennor; Horn did not. She fought at the battle before the Black Gates and returned to Dunland to serve as an ambassador between her people and those of Rohan. Siofran still receives the occasional letter from Nona, written in clipped Westron. Nona wasn't a woman of many words and the War has made her a woman of even fewer._

_**Like a cross between a hiccup and a chuckle._


End file.
